


Desperate to Be Loved

by orphan_account



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. Likewise, it takes an avalanche of mistakes and bad choices to freeze one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this and decided to share it with you guys, though I don't know how exactly I feel about it. This is my first fanfiction, so there may be some canon indiscrepancies or plot holes and inconsistencies, especially in later chapters. Thanks! Enjoy the story!

The chants of the ice-sellers carried over the gates of the Southern Isles, bringing the people out of their homes. The men came every summer, singing of winter air and mountain rain, their bulky clothes and tired faces making them stand out. As the long line of sleighs and people came trudging through the gates, the parade was lined by people, welcoming the tired men to their kingdom for another summer. They were often greeted with questions, something that the men were used to.

It was a phenomenon at first, the idea of an eternal winter and whipping winds and biting colds that never ceased. At first, people from all over would gather around a random sleigh, some tentative and others open and friendly. After many summers of ice and mountain men, most adults acknowledged their arrival with a nod and returned to their work. The children, however, gathered around the sleighs and begged the ice-sellers to tell stories. The rough mountain men, while intimidating at times, would smile and invite the children to sit down in their laps. They'd always clamor for a story.

Each ice-seller had a different tale to tell. Many told stories of dragons, knights, and princesses, their voices rising as they told of a knight's last stand against a fearful monster, and true love's kiss. Some told ghost stories, waiting until a fireplace was lit and grabbing children's arms just as the monster was to be revealed. The children shrieked and squirmed, but they laughed all the same.

This time, an ice-seller gave his hat to a little boy in the front of the crowd and sat down by his sleigh. "It's time for me to rest. I've been climbing mountains for a while." As always, there were shouts from the crowd. Ice-sellers often repeated tales, especially if they were requested.

"Tell us about the lost princess and the magic flower!"

"I want to hear about the evil witch who turned into a dragon!"

“No! What about the mermaid and the sea witch?”

"Please, can I...." The voices all blurred into one, slowly growing louder as the children realized they couldn't be heard.

"Shh!" a little boy whispered to his little brother, standing on tiptoes at the back of the crowd. "I can't hear!" The crowd quieted down as the man pulled out a lute and began tuning it. Soon, all that could be heard was the strumming of the man's instrument as the children looked on, eyes wide.

"I have a story for you." The children began cheering, until the man put his hand up for silence. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a wise king and his queen. They led a prosperous kingdom, located next to a tall snowy mountain. The fjord was always full of ships and people, whether it was winter or summer.

In this kingdom, there was a powerful sorcerer. The kingdom was scared of him, except for a young intrepid princess. Like you." He smiled at a little girl cowering behind her friends. She managed a small wave and the man continued.

"One warm summer day, this princess was by the sorcerer's house, a stone structure at the edge of the mountain. Being the little imp she was, she knocked on the door." The ice-seller knocked on his sleigh for emphasis, inviting the children to do the same. When they finally settled down again after rising in a frenzy, he leaned in.

"The sorcerer answered, robes flying around him and voice booming, 'What do you want?' The girl, though scared, wouldn't back down. 'Please, sir. I want to talk to you.' He refused and slammed the door in her face.

The princess ran away crying and told her father, who summoned the army to imprison the sorcerer. The king's men rushed in to the sorcerer's home, finding him stirring a potion and humming a tune. He looked up, and frowned.

'The little brat complained, didn't she? Hmmph. No matter.'

After muttering a few more words, the once still air began swirling around like a blizzard. The winds were relentless, sending the soldiers’ swords flying out of their hands and leaving them pressed against the wall. The sorcerer shouted, robes billowing, 'Because of this attack, the family tree will forever be cursed! You will know how it feels to be scorned because of something you cannot control.' The wind and ice whirled and whirled around until the sorcerer was gone.

Running back to the king, the soldiers reported what had happened, and the strange threat. Confused, the king went to the trolls who lived at the base of the mountain, asking for an explanation. The trolls gave him a prophecy.

_Your future is bleak,_   
_Your kingdom will splinter,_   
_Your land shall be cursed with unending winter._

_With blasts of cold will come dark art,_   
_and a ruler, with a frozen heart._

_And all will perish in snow and ice,_   
_unless you are freed with a sword sacrifice._

Later, the king went back to his castle and found his daughter making a snowman by the fireplace. Blinded by concern for the kingdom and the trolls' prophecy, he banished his own daughter, lest the prophecy come true. No one know what has happened since, except perhaps the trolls and the sorcerer."

The man ended his story, taking his hat back from the boy and combing back his hair with his fingers. He prepared to reboard his sleigh when a short man dressed in the royal colors shoved his way though the children. "Sir, the king requires all of the ice-sellers to go to the castle."

"Of course. Tell him that I am at his service." The ice-seller bowed and began following the man, stopping when he felt a tug on his shirt.

"Was that a true story?" A little redheaded boy looked up earnestly, dressed in clothing too proper for any other boy his age.

"Maybe. In the North Mountains, winter seems to last forever. Perhaps the troll's prophecy has already come true." With a handshake, the man sprinted off to find the king's messenger.

The boy walked away, head hanging. His taller brother, joining him, laughed. "You ask really stupid questions. It's a fairy tale. Or do you still believe in dragons and griffins?"

With a set to his jaw, the younger boy replied, "There's a griffin on our family crest. Besides, you heard the man."

"Daddy says not to trust the mountain men. Look, Hans, it doesn't matter. Let's just get home in time for dinner."

"Alright, Abel."

And with that, the boys followed the procession of ice sleighs to the dark stone castle, where a royal dinner was waiting.

 ---

When Hans and Abel arrived at the table, quickly running their hands through their hair and brushing off any dust that might have been on their clothes, the table was already half full of tired looking Westergards. Their oldest brother Niels was engaged in a conversation with their father, about trade relationships and other things that nobody bothered teaching anyone born after Kresten. Therefore, no one born after Kresten meant anything to King Aksel.

"So, Fredrik's over in Bergen right now as our ambassador, and Albert should be sailing to Corona as we speak. Maybe we'll see Klaus there. God knows what happened to him." Niels seemed to be doing a roll call of all the brothers, though Hans was busy trying to see the map he was drawing. Unlike Klemens, who was ready-made to be the next king but prefered his job as womanizer, Hans was actually concerned with the inner workings of the monarchy. He squinted and could see the tiny kingdom in the corner.

"Are you planning to send someone to Arendelle? Kresten, maybe?" he suggested, leaning towards the map. Viktor held back a snicker, and Hans resisted the urge to punch him. Niels, while condescending at times, knew what he was talking about. Albert, Klemens, and Viktor were both stupid and intent on terrorizing Anders, Abel, and Hans, the three youngest, but they all seemed to specialize in Hans-torture. At least Anders was Niels's favorite brother and had a chance of getting a favorable position. Niels also made it a point to intimidate anyone who pushed Anders too far. Abel was bigger and stronger, so they didn't mess with him too much; the ice-sellers had once talked with him about recruitment, even at such a young age. Of course, it wasn’t a feasible job for royalty, but it sent the right message.

Hans was the perfect target. He was closest to Josef, who was never at the castle anymore and who could only help him with the military. He had a fast mind and had an amazing charisma, but that meant nothing to his brothers. Their feelings ranged from Josef’s kindness (but that didn’t count because that was Josef’s personality) to Niels and Fredrik's tolerance, then to Klaus and Mathias’s dislike, and to the Hans-terrorizers absolute loathing. Physically, he was average height, but much slimmer than Abel or Klaus, which made him non-threatening. And, of course, he didn’t have the royal education, which meant that any attempt he made to learn was met with disdain.

Niels frowned, which wasn’t the worst reaction possible. “Kresten couldn’t be trusted with trade relations. Besides, Arendelle makes it a point to only send ambassadors, never to receive.”

“I heard that!” Kresten called from across the table. He seemed offended, but then again, he disliked Niels.

Niels, after narrowing his eyes at Kresten, shrugged in Hans’ direction and returned to his conversation with the king.

“Weseltown’s still trying to take advantage of us. They should be sending their ambassador after the ice-sellers leave. We shouldn’t need to worry about them. What we do need to consider is…” His voice dropped until he was whispering. After saying his words, he furtively looked around and saw Hans watching. “You know, Dad, we need to talk about this after dinner. It’s very personal to the Southern Isles.” He gave an apologetic glance to Hans, and returned to his map.

Hans realized how not hungry he was, and excused himself. Heading down the hallway where all 13 rooms were located, he found Tarben’s room open and the teenager reading a large book. Tarben was always too absorbed in a book to notice anything, and his ambivalence towards hans was clear. Looking up and seeing Hans at the door of his room, he picked up a sheet of paper and a pen from the huge stack on the floor. Scribbling some words, he walked toward the door, jumping over books and pencils, and handed him the note.

“Give this to Dad, will you? I’ll be occupied for a while.”

Before Hans could object, Tarben slammed the door in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back with chapter two of Desperate to Be Loved. I'm not even sure if anyone's reading this, but I enjoy writing it. So, if you readers actually exist, enjoy!

_**8 years later**_

Life as a young royal was hard. Even at the age of 15, Hans was expected to be capable of running the kingdom if something happened to his twelve older brothers (which was unlikely anyways). He was also supposed to command the Armed Forces of the Southern Isles if there was a war, because of a lack of trained men. He had to be a master strategist, scholar, athlete, and artist, with a healthy dose of influence and manipulation.

Life as the youngest brother of thirteen was even harder. He always had the spot at the end of the table, the worst horse in the stables, the hand-me-downs that could be dated exactly depending on the phase his brother was going through in those years. Anything he did, whether it was draw the castle with crayons at the age of 5 or win a game of chess against his tutor for the first time at 13, his brothers had done it better, and younger.

Combine the two and you have impossibility. The townspeople had none of the respect for Hans that was given to his brothers. He wasn't going to be king, but he was higher than all of them. He was lucky that they at least liked him. Visiting royals were always looking for King Aksel, Niels, or Josef, avoiding him. It hurt, sure, but not as much as the scorn his brothers had for him.

Albert, Klemens and Viktor had been pretending he was invisible for the past few months. He got some sympathy from the oldest brothers, and even slight friendship with Anders and Abel, but it didn't help. All his other brothers tolerated him at most.

It wasn’t easy to get through, especially after nights of falling asleep with tear-streaked pillows, but he knew that you didn't become king through sob stories. Hans had an inner happiness and charisma that made the townspeople like him and invite him to their parties and dances. A king must know his people, he reasoned, even if they're slightly scared of him.

He had a set of rules, for what a king was expected to be. How a king was to be viewed was important, which differentiated Niels and Fredrik. Fredrik was more of a brooding, dark type, while Niels was the exact replica of a younger King Aksel.

Hans looked more like his mother, but he emulated his father in everything from temperament to strategy. He listened to the concerns of the people, and talked to his father about them. He helped with economic crises and the people came to him with their disputes with land and property.

It was painful that none of that would ever be his own. He tried to brush that off of his mind as he went to the stables.

He met Josef down at the stables, which was odd. He rarely ever saw Josef at dinner, or around the castle. In fact, this was the first time he had seen the Southern Isles' military commander in months.

"Hey, little brother." Josef gave him a firm handshake, then pulled him into a hug and ruffled his hair. "How's life treating you?"

"Not so well. Albert's leading Klemens and Viktor in a quest to pretend I don't exist."

"Oh, well. Can't let that get you down. Remember, I'm here for you." He brought his horse out of it's stall and began adjusting the saddle.

_Except for the fact that you're never around_ , Hans thought. He loved his brother, he really did, but it's hard to love someone who shuts you out, whether on purpose or not.

Josef mounted his horse, and tipped his hat to Hans. "Tell me if anyone bothers you again. I'll deal with them." He led his horse to the open door and added, "Even if you can't be king, I can make you an admiral. Remember that.

It was an empty promise, Hans knew, but it made him feel better all the same.

\---

Hans was a bit too old for the stories of the ice-sellers, but he wasn't above greeting them at the gate. He sat on his horse, waved, and directed them towards the castle. They always smiled, shook his hand, and went off to through the streets, where they would stop to tell stories.

He rode through the streets and waited for the storytellers to finish their tales, then politely redirected them. The first storyteller - and tale - he interrupted was one he recognized.

"Amund! Don't scare the children!"

The weary ice-seller, finishing with a "The End," looked up and broke into a grin. "Your Highness!"

He got up and bowed, the children following suit as they realized who he was. "Is he telling you about the ice princess?"

The children nodded, some falling over themselves with excitement.

"The sorcerer had a real frozen heart, didn't he?" he said, remembering the tale.

"Yeah!" a little boy with freckles across his face responded. "The king kicked his butt!" His older sister pulled him to the side and hissed something, probably about proper words to use around royalty. Hans didn't actually mind, but some of his brothers could have been offended.

"Some might say the king was the one with the frozen heart," Amund said, "because he shut his daughter out."

"Of course not. A king does what's best for his kingdom, no matter the consequences." Hans spoke. That was one of his ideas of what a king was, picked up from legends and his own father. Many of the young boys nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps," replied Amund. "But kings are people too, and people can freeze."

"That they can. I assume you know why I'm here. Shall I escort you to the castle?"

"I am at your service, Your Highness."

"Hans. Call me Prince Hans if you must, but I prefer my own name."

\---

It frustrated Hans to no end that the kingdom of the Southern Isles would never be his own. The people liked him, and he knew how to run a kingdom. He loved everything about it, from the castle to the fjords to the mountains. It was the curse of being born a Westergard that prevented him.

He avoided the dinner table, as last time he went to sit down, he found Viktor already in his seat. He had brushed it off, and went to take Viktor's seat, but Albert had his legs up on it and was sitting leisurely, giving a grin to Klemens across the table. Tarben had his nose stuck in a book and didn't seem to notice, but Mathias and Klaus had noticed and were snickering about it. Something was up.

"Excuse me, Albert?" Hans had decided to take the polite route, especially because Fredrik was back visiting after getting married in Corona. He already had a preference towards Hans's Terrorizing Trio, so it wouldn't help his cause either way. "May I sit down?"

"I'm sorry. Was there a window left open? It felt like a breeze blew through here." Apparently Viktor didn't have the same mindset.

"This isn't that funny. Please?" He had pushed back, almost begging until he noticed the disapproving glances the king, along with Fredrik and Kresten, was giving him. Then he had just walked to his room, shut the door, and took deep breaths, burying his head in the pillow.

Today, it looked like they were going to pull the same routine, so he went straight to his room and sent a servant with a message. It wasn't worth it. Hans locked the door.

\---

_**8 years later** _

Throughout the years, he learned to shut part of himself away. He focused himself on taking over the kingdom and the world to fill the space left by the people who were never there. Hans learned how to be bitter, how to reflect the feelings of those around him. How to make people see the best in him, and more importantly, the worst in themselves.

He kept some of his humanity, that directed towards his people, but he began seeing those he loved and trusted as threats. All he cared about was becoming king. Josef carried out his promise, and he became Admiral Westergard along with Prince Hans, but that wasn't enough.

His brothers eventually got over pretending he didn't exist. By that time, it was too late.

A tiny kingdom that hadn't been opened for trade was opening their gates for one day, so that a new queen could be crowned. The Southern Isles needed an ambassador, to hopefully improve trade relations. Hans volunteered immediately. He saw an opportunity, and he took it.

Learning more about the kingdom was hard. He learned from Arendelle's ambassadors that the heir to the throne was antisocial, and shut herself in. Even the townspeople hadn't been near the castle in years, but they knew that much, whether gossip or truth. The younger one was happier, bubblier, and desperate to be loved. Perfect.

The heart cannot so easily be changed, but the head can be persuaded. And so was the story of the king, who was ruled by fear, who shut people out. So was the story of the sorcerer who cursed many, who fought to keep them away.

That is the story of those with frozen heads, frozen opinions.

Frozen hearts not only come from those people, but those who shut themselves in.

 

Hans was going to Arendelle.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been a while, and I wasn't sure if people enjoyed the story, but here it is! The chapter's a bit shorter than the first two, but Chapter 4 will be much longer (plus it's already half-written). I'm also updating/writing multiple stories at once now, so there's that. Enjoy!

Crashing into one of your future subjects isn’t the best way to introduce yourself, but that’s the unfortunate way Hans made his first connection in Arendelle.

 

That morning, he had dressed up as close as he could to Arendelle’s colors and set out to talk to the townspeople. The ones he had talked to had seemed impressed with his demeanor and interaction with the people. Apparently the royalty in Arendelle hadn’t made any effort to connect with their people in three years.

 

He mostly talked to older people, who had stories to tell. The children hid behind their parent’s legs, and all the people even remotely around his age tried to look busy when he had walked by. After little success in the town, he had decided to go by the docks, where he could talk to newcomers and people looking for conversations.

 

Of course, the one person his age looking for someone to talk to was the one who decided to collide with his horse.

 

The subject in question was a pretty girl about the age of eighteen with freckles brushed across her nose. She wasn’t cautious, that was for sure; she walked straight in front of his horse not looking where she was going. He had tried to stop Sitron when he had seen the blur coming from the side, but he was too late. She had already tripped on a bucket and fell in a boat, sending it towards the water. Sitron had luckily put his hoof on the boat just as it was about to fall off the dock.

 

Now the girl was sprawled in the boat, hair and seaweed flipped over her eyes, dress disheveled after tripping on a bucket, but she was still somehow beautiful. That was obvious, even while she gave him an indignant look. “Hey!”

 

“I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?” He stopped Sitron and waited, noting how her expression, after removing the seaweed from her face, went from one of annoyance to a wide-eyed, surprised look.

 

“Hey,” she said, in a much less hostile way than the first. “Uh, yeah, no,” she said, stuttering and trying to get up. “I’m okay.”

 

“Are you sure?” Hans said, dismounting.

 

“Y-yeah,” she continued, still stuttering. He climbed into the boat to help her and offered a hand, Sitron with a firm hoof on the boat to make sure it wouldn’t fall. “I just wasn’t looking where I was going, but I’m great. Actually.” She gave him a tentative grin.

   

“Oh, thank goodness,” he responded, extending his hand further. She hesitated, then took it, her slight grin transforming into a bright smile. She already trusted him, which was good. He responded in turn. Remembering his castle-trained manners, he pulled her up and bowed, saying, “Oh. Uh. Prince Hans, of the Southern Isles.” He had the impression he wouldn’t impress her with Admiral Westergard.

 

She curtsied in response. “Princess Anna, of Arendelle.”

 

“Princess?” He immediately stooped to the ground in a deeper bow, hoping she didn’t notice the confusion sweep through his face. Which princess? Arendelle had two, neither of which should have been running around the kingdom singing. He corrected himself as he went over her past actions. Only a younger sibling not destined to be queen would be so desperate for acknowledgement. He would know. “My lady.”

 

Anna seemed almost surprised to see his actions, lifting up her dress to walk and preparing to say something. Sitron seemed confused as well, but stooped to bow, lifting his hoof and sending the boat to the edge of the pier. Hans reached forward and caught her, preparing to help her get back on the pier if necessary. The boat hung precariously of the the edge, and Anna clung to Hans as if he were a lifeline.

 

“Um,” he said, trying to figure out how to fix the situation.

 

Anna seemed to be doing the same thing. “Hi.” She removed her hands and was held up only by Hans. Not the smartest decision.

 

Sitron looked up, saw the scene, and corrected himself, slamming his hoof down and sending Hans backwards with Anna on top of him. “Oh, boy.”

 

Lifting herself up, she looked at him sheepishly. In that moment, she didn’t look a thing like a princess. “This is awkward. Not that you’re awkward. Just cause we’re --I’m --awkward.” She pushed herself up for probably the fifth time that day. For a moment, she stumbled, and Hans rushed to offer his hand again. This time, she took it without hesitation.”You’re gorgeous. Wait, what?”

 

She was impulsive, Hans noted. And far too trusting. And apparently easily swayed by beautiful strangers. Not good personality traits for a queen, but wonderful ones for his plan.

 

He pulled her up and began dusting himself off. “I’d like to formally apologize for hitting the princess of Arendelle with my horse.” He paused, watching as she tried to figure out whether she was flattered or uncomfortable. “And, for every moment after.”

 

She immediately responded, “No, no! It’s fine. I’m not _that_ princess.” Making her way back to the dock, where hopefully less mistakes would happen, she continued. “I mean, if you hit my sister, Elsa, That would be… yeesh.” She laughed, but it seemed forced. “It’s just, you know…” She almost walked into Sitron, but she stopped herself on time, just petting his nose. “Hello.”

 

Turning back to Hans, she said, “But, lucky you... It’s just me.”

 

He laughed. He had said those words to his father, before leaving for Arendelle. He had knocked on the study door, and his father had asked if it was Josef.  He had replied like Anna, almost shamefully.

 

Pulling himself back to the present, he said, “ _Just_ you?”

 

She grinned back, something shy and different. No one must have recognized her for more than the spare before.

 

The bells sounded in the distance, and Anna flinched, as if someone had woken her up. “The bells. The coronation. I,” she said crashing into a metal post, “I --I better go. I have to go. I better go.“ She turned, remembered her manners, turned back, and waved. “Bye!”

 

Hans smiled, and lifted his hand in response, as did Sitron. Too late, he realized that he was falling and found himself under n the upturned boat in the harbor. Pushing it up and spitting out the water in his mouth, he grinned. This would be easier than he thought.

 

\---

 

Marrying into the throne wasn’t his first choice, but it was the only plausible one. That meant that this queen, Elsa, would be his ticket to royalty.

 

He had changed his mind, however, when he met Anna. He had heard that the princess was young and naive, but he hadn’t predicted exactly _how_ young and naive. Everything she had done at the dock had shown how much she wanted a Prince Charming.

 

Elsa would need to be removed, somehow. But he was one step closer to his goal.

 

Waving at Anna, who wasn’t doing a good job of hiding that she was staring at him, he focused as the queen bowed to receive the crown. She was young, maybe two years younger than himself, and she was shouldering the burden of an entire kingdom.

 

Which wasn’t saying much. Hans could’ve managed the throne at nineteen. But he couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of sympathy for the girl. She stood and trembled at the front of the room as the kingdom rose to recognize their new queen, seeming as if she would shatter if someone touched her.

 

He stood with the rest of them, marking the queen’s actions, but also observing Anna. She was different in front of a kingdom: more poised, less clumsiness, and less stuttering, with the same serene look her sister was trying to hold, except successful.

 

It definitely was the same girl from earlier, though. She was wearing the same dress as before, but even if she wasn’t, he would have recognized her from the freckles.

 

Hans also recognized the look she was giving her sister. It was one of pride, but also of envy. One of desperation to be recognized but the inability to. He had worn that same look many times.

 

After the coronation had ended, and the crowd had dispersed, he had seen Anna searching through the crowds, looking for him. He had ducked immediately and looked for the nearest side entrance. Hans wasn’t quite ready to talk to her yet.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? But I’m on break now and should be able to do more with this and my other WIPS. Enjoy!

Hans associated with the many diplomats and ambassadors at the coronation party, postponing his talk with Anna. The princess seemed like she hadn’t talked with her sister in a while. She interacted with her sister oddly, speaking in brief statements and tensing up in anticipation of her response. Anna wasn’t scared, just hesitant; it was Elsa initiating conversation, but keeping her face clear of any emotion. The only time he had seen the queen smile was when the Duke went up to them and left with Anna’s elbow hooked into his.

That was one of the reasons he prefered Anna to Elsa: she was open with her feelings and transparent. Elsa, much like his father and older brothers, concealed their reactions and kept the face that he and Abel had called the “adult” face when they were little. Hans made a point of pretending to be an open book, because it made people like him, while knowing how to maintain the adult face.

After Anna had stood there, hands on hips, while the Duke of Weselton leaped around her in his form of dancing, he decided to intervene. She still kept the same stubborn smile even after the ordeal. But that seemed to change when Elsa turned away, putting her hands up and losing her serenity for a moment. Anna muttered something to her as she went back in the midst of the dancing couples.

Hans weaved through the crowd to her, picking up a drink from a nearby servant to make himself seem casual when he approached her. Just as he was about to reach her, she tripped, flailing her arms out to catch herself. He reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“Glad I caught you.” She wouldn’t have gotten too hurt, but helping her would increase his chances.

“Hans.” She seemed relieved, smiling and not resisting when he pulled her closer. He put his drink on a nearby tray and began dancing with the remainder of the crowd. Anna, quite literally, was swept off her feet.

Both were castle-trained dancers, so they stepped with fluid and clean motions, Hans more so than Anna. For her clumsiness, she was surprisingly graceful.

After the dance, they had stood at the edge of the room, talking and laughing. “I often had the whole parlor to myself to slide…” Anna said, telling him a story from when she was eight. She had flung her arms up for emphasis, hitting Hans in the face during the process. Afterwards, she had tensed like she had with Elsa. Hans felt bad for her. “Oops. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Continue with your story. It didn’t hurt much anyway.”

“Thank goodness. Anyway, so one time I accidentally crashed into the suits of armor at the end of the hall, and my parents were mad at me for days. Then again, I probably broke ten or so suits of armor throughout my entire life. That wasn’t as bad as the time I knocked over Kai, though...”

Hans was fascinated with her stories, but they were a bit repetitive. All were about her crashing into people or objects or walls. He was pretty sure she had crashed into everything in the castle.

He tried to get her to stop. “Why don’t you take me on a tour of the castle? You can show me which suit of armor was the one they made you glue back together, and I can learn more about the kingdom.”

“Sure!” She took his arm and pulled him through the crowd. While she ducked under servers and tried not to get stepped on by dancing couples, she continued talking. “It’s really hard to get through these crowds and get people’s attention. It’s like they don’t notice me.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” he asked, but he knew the answer. It was similar to his own.

“Well, you probably don’t know what it’s like. You’re handsome, ” she said, blushing, “and your physique helps, I’m sure, too.”

They exited the castle doors and walked for a while, Anna tugging him down one path after another. Hans went through his knowledge of how to talk to girls and found very little.

He remembered Tarben asking for advice with a girl he had met and Kresten talking about appropriate but meaningful touches. Falling on top of one another had definitely been inadvertent, but Anna had reacted well. He decided to test things out by giving Anna a light shove.

Anna pushed back, slamming her entire body into his and giggling. That’s when he noticed the streak in her hair.

“What’s this?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the path and reaching out as if to touch her face. She pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit of hers Hans had begun to notice.

“I was born with it. Although…” She paused. From what she told Hans, she never had a chance to actually talk to a guy. “I dreamt I was kissed by a troll.”

“I like it.” She seemed to be insecure about it, and Hans had learned to compliment people’s insecurities.

“Yeah.” She brushed her hair back again, this time blushing. Hans waited, creating a lull in the conversation. That usually made people talk. “Um. Okay.” She took a step ahead. “Hey, why don’t we go to the kitchens? The krumkake is to die for.” Anna took off running, not waiting for him to follow her.

Hans took up the offer and followed her. He easily caught up, catching her and spinning her around. “Whoa!” he laughed. Anna was incredibly easy to manipulate, but also a genuinely fun person to be around. If he could afford friends, Anna would’ve been the type of person he’d choose.

“Hey!” For a second, she struggled, but then relaxed. He put her down, and brushed off her shoulder. Still dizzy, she grabbed onto his arm.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“More than I’ve had in a long time,” she replied, smiling. “Now let’s go.”

 

\---

 

Before Hans knew it, they were on a balcony overlooking the shining lights of the party and town. “Wow,” he said, admiring the view. “That’s… amazing.” He took a seat on the edge, grabbing on the ensure his safety.

“Yeah.” She shrugged and sat next to him. “So is the krumkake. Which you’ve neglected to eat.” The smile she gave him was nervous. That statement was probably boundary-pushing for her.

“Oh, sorry.” He took a small bite of the krumkake, which he had wrapped in a napkin. Anna had eaten hers as soon as they had gotten them, but Hans was used to waiting.

“No! That’s not how you eat it!”

He laughed. Anna had almost fell over herself trying to stop him. “I assume Arendelle takes its krumkake very seriously.”

“I’m surprised the Southern Isles doesn’t.” She waited as he tested out different methods, finally clapping when he copied her earlier eating method.

“Yeah! The whole thing! You got it.” Crumbs fell into Hans’s lap, and they both laughed. Anna’s laugh at first had been more reserved, but now she doubled over, eyes watering as she cracked up.

She attempted to regain her posture and changed the subject, still breathing heavily and chuckling whenever she spoke. “Okay, wait, wait. So you have how many older brothers?”

“Twelve older brothers. Three of them pretended I was invisible… literally… for two years.”

Anna’s laughter ceased, her expression shocked. “That’s horrible.”

Hans told her what he had told himself to justify his brothers’ behavior. “It’s what brothers do.”

She chuckled, and bit her lip. “And sisters…” Her shoulders dipped, and she took a breath. “Elsa and I were really close when we were little. But then, one day she just shut me out, and I never knew why.”

_This is your moment._ Hans took her hand and leaned in, smiling. “I would never shut you out.”

Anna got up, brushing crumbs off of her dress, and pulled him up from where they were sitting.

“Okay, can I just say something crazy?”

He decided, in that moment, to be honest. Anna was different than what he had thought her to be. Not like the princesses that his brothers had swooned over, but a actual, real-live person. “I love crazy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had half of “Love Is An Open Door” written before I decided that it was too tedious and boring. I’ll skip over it in the next chapter, and focus more on scenes that weren’t in the movie. Thanks for reading!


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